Return to Point Hollow

This story is part of an ongoing series.

The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and

constructive

criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

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Part 17 - Power vs. Power

Charles Westbrook stabbed down with all of his power amongst the chants, the heat and light of the torches, and the incredibly foul stench that polluted the air.

*GRAB!*

I grabbed Westbrook's wrists and hands, desperately trying to stop the knife from penetrating the chest of the helpless girl lying on the alter. Westbrook was pushing will all of his physical power and will power, and I felt the evil of the demon working inside him, against me. All of my strength was not enough; the knife was lowering. I was losing...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They'd made a mistake. By tying the noose directly behind my neck, I knew that I had one very slim chance. I pivoted, doing an 'about face' so as not to shift my weight too much or leave the stone. I lined up with the one remaining torch by the fireplace, took a deep breath, tightened my neck muscles as much as I could by leaning forward against the rope, and totally committed myself by pushing myself backwards off the stone.

Sure enough, it began descending. But as I swung forward, I pushed my legs out straight, and caught the staff of the torch between my boots. The torch came with me as I swung back, and as I went forward, I tried to twist hard to get the torch into the fireplace. My back was screaming with pain, but I managed to get the torch into the fire. When I pulled back out, it was lighted!

The rest was easy. I doubled myself, my legs lifting up. My core was aching and my back was still screaming, but I got the torch high enough to light the rope of the noose. It burned through quickly, and I began falling. Dropping the torch on the stones, I executed a dynamite parachute landing fall, and was relatively unhurt.

Once on the ground, I worked my body and legs through my arms so that they were in front of me. I got the noose off, but knew I had to find something to cut the bonds on my wrists. I picked up the torch, knowing this would hurt, but...

"Come! This way!" called out a woman's voice. I looked up. In the doorway was a young blonde woman, wearing a frilly electric blue dress that was standard ballroom wear in the 1880s. Her face seemed to be in shadow as I threw the torch into the fireplace and ran to her to unloose my bonds.

"Come, we must hurry!" she said, taking my hand and not untying me. We ran together out of the house and across the front yard, towards the trail next to the River. It was odd; her hand on mine seemed warm, like a loving caress. But I still couldn't see her face.

We ran at the top of our speed. I was running as hard as I could, just to keep up with her. I could hear the chants of the Satanists, and heard Westbrook scream something about my crowbar.

"Go!" the girl said as we reached the edge of the copse of trees. I ran on, my hands still tied. As the torches flared up to blinding brightness, I smelled the most foul stench I'd ever had the displeasure to smell, and I thought I saw something taking form right in front of me.

I ran past the form and grabbed Westbrook's hands just as he was stabbing the knife down, and a desperate battle for a girl's life versus a demon's liberation began...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti...

"

I heard Father Romano's words. They cut through the sounds and the light and the evil I was fighting. I pushed up harder... and I began winning.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Westbrook screamed as I pushed his hands and the knife to the top of his reach. Then I began wresting it from his hands. As I did, the torches dimmed back to their original level, and the fetid odor, while still very present, lessened.

"DAMN YOU, TROY!" screamed Westbrook as I took the knife from him. "Get him! Kill him!" The chanters were about to rush me. Almost without thinking about it, I grabbed Westbrook, and with one motion I whirled him over my head, and flung him into the onrushing sycophants!

The front row of people fell back as Westbrook's body crashed into them. I turned and grabbed my crowbar, now armed and ready for personal combat. Despite the bonds on my wrists and the pain in my back, I felt strangely calm and confident with my crowbar in my hands.

As Westbrook sank to the ground, the others readied to attack, screaming "Get him!" and other ugly, personal epithets. They began to advance...

"TOWN & COUNTY P

OLICE!" yelled a voice. Suddenly, Officers were pouring into the clearing from all directions, led by Lt. Commander Teresa Croyle. They began making arrests. A lot of arrests.

Teresa hurried up to me. "Are you all right?" she asked as she tried to untie my hands. Seeing that was not working, she brought out her short sword and easily cut my bonds. Other Officers were untying Mary Gabriel. Officers and medics were attending Father Romano and Dr. Mickelson.

"I'm... I'm all right." Father Romano said as Teresa went over to him at my direction. Teresa insisted that he let the medics make that decision. Then we all looked at Dr. Mickelson. He was unconscious, and being tended to by the medics.

I looked over at the others. They were all being arrested and carried away... except Dr. Westbrook. He was still lying on the ground, being tended to by medics. I saw that they were giving him CPR, and I inwardly realized that he was now beyond their help. Instead of the demon being liberated, Westbrook had now joined his cousin Westboro and that demon in whatever Hell that had spawned them.

And then, I looked up. To the north, I could see the moonlight seeming to emanate from the yard. And then I saw her, standing there.

"Wait!" I called out as she turned away. "Come back!" I ran to the trail's entrance, but instead of Point Hollow, I was seeing a trail leading up to a stream, a faintly pastel bridge crossing it, a bench on the near side next to it. The girl was walking to the bridge, and the meadow beyond. "Wait!" I cried out again. She turned to me.

"You have freed me, Iron Crowbar!" she said, her voice haunting, and seeming to ring throughout my head. "You have released me from my curse to be damned to remain at Point Hollow! Farewell, and bless you!" I felt a sense of desperation as I began to run out of the copse of trees to follow her...

*KA-POW!*

A bolt of lightning shot out of the sky and hit the yard right in front of me, knocking me back. I felt electricity pouring through me, but it was strangely not painful. I realized I was lying on the ground, on my back. Others were rushing out of the copse of trees.

"STOP!" I yelled. "Don't move! Don't come over here!"

"What is it, Commander?" Teresa yelled as I struggled to my feet. "Were you hit?"

"No." I called out. I went forward, and saw the scorched mark on the ground. I drove my crowbar into that spot, and it just stood there, marking the location.

"Get sonar!" I yelled. "I want the ground right here investigated!"

My Officers, led by Lt. Cmdr. Croyle, also approached. They may have thought I was crazy. At that moment, they may have been right. "What are we looking for, sir?" Lt. Rudistan asked as he approached me.

"Evidence of a crime, Mr. Rudistan. Evidence of a crime." I replied. "We are looking for bones, for a person buried right here."

For a moment, no one moved. I yelled out "What are you waiting for? Sonar!"

"YOU HEARD THE MAN!" yelled out Teresa Croyle. "Let's go! Get sonar and search that spot! Rudistan, do whatever you have to do, but get Commander Troy to medical attention!" Officers got their rears in gear, and activity began anew...

Part 18 - Aftermath

2:00am, Sunday, October 6th. I was at my Police SUV, which somehow had moved up to the end of the drive at the front of the house. Teresa was making her report.

"Everyone here," she said, "everyone except you, that is... is reporting that they were standing at their posts, then woke up realizing they were lying on the ground... and that it was two hours later. We found Commander Ross near the entrance to the property. She was still unconscious, lying on her side. You said that you were being TASERed, but remember seeing her being thrown out of the car and landing on her side. That would make sense; she has a concussion, and her ribs are hurting though none are broken. She's at the Hospital now, trying to get out of there while the doctors are trying to keep her there. My money says she'll win that one." I vigorously nodded in agreement.

"Next," Teresa said, "the medic that looked at you said there is a burn mark on your back, right at the spot where your bad vertebrae are... but there is no damage to your trenchcoat, shirt, or the 'girdle' you were wearing. I don't how you got TASERed, but whatever hit your back passed right through everything without leaving a mark." I nodded.

"They found the rope hanging from the ceiling, the noose on the floor, the weights and the rock blocks you described." Teresa said. "They think your SUV was driven up here by Westbrook with you unconscious in it. Your badge and gun were inside, sitting on the seat. Why they didn't take them, I don't know, but they didn't." I nodded.

"Mary Gabriel seems to be physically unharmed." Teresa said. "But she was admitted to the hospital, and I suspect someone in your wife's line of work will be needed to talk to her. She was hysterical, and was sedated." I nodded.

"Father Romano was beaten up pretty badly, but should be okay." Teresa said. "He said he and Dr. Mickelson were taken from the Biology Building, were knocked unconscious after being put in a black van, were taken to a dark, windowless room, and the perps tried to get him to tell what Mickelson had told him in confession. But he didn't break." I nodded.

"Dr. Mickelson was rushed to the hospital." said Teresa. "He was beaten very badly, but Dr. Morgan thinks he'll recover... physically. No bets are being taken on his state of mind. He's been mumbling and softly ranting a lot, and he's not coherent." I nodded.

"Dr. Charles Westbrook... is dead." Teresa said. "Martha thinks he had a heart attack when you stopped him from stabbing that girl to death. We've arrested all the sycophants, there were sixteen of them, and we are interviewing them now at County Jail. Most are talking pretty freely. Lawrence Evans and Gary King have been separated from them and are in isolation and suicide watch. Lawrence is almost demonic himself right now. We're keeping King separate because you, Father Romano, and many others are saying he and Lawrence were helping Westbrook kidnap people and leaving others, particularly you, hanging." I nodded.

"We're going to ask you to get in front of a camera again and repeat your entire story, in the morning." Teresa said. "I'm sure you understand that it's a bit fantastic, and we want to hear it again when you're calm, and the adrenaline levels are down."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I get that." I said. "Any sign of the FBI?

"No one on the other side of the State Line." Teresa said. "We haven't contacted them yet, though Tanya is leading the Detectives in the questioning at County Jail, so I'm sure Jack Muscone must know."

"It's all right if he does." I said. "He's one of the good guys. Don't say anything to anyone else----"

Just then Chief Moynahan came up, accompanied by Lt. Rudistan, who was carrying my red crowbar. "Well, Commander Houdini," said Rudistan with the most jovial of grins. "Want a job with the Circus? As an escape artist?" I chuckled. The Chief did not.

"I may need that job," I said, "after the Chief is finished with me."

"How are you feeeelinnnng, Mr. Crowbar?" asked the Chief.

"My neck is stiff." I said. "And the soreness all over is going to set in in a few hours... when the adrenaline wears off."

"Sir," said Lt. Rudistan, "we used sonar on the spot you marked. There are bones, human bones, about three feet down, and they're being excavated now." He handed me back my red crowbar. It felt warm to the touch, but not as hot as the red crowbar with which I engaged the Slender Man in personal combat.

"How did you know?" asked Teresa. "And whose bones are they? Oh, and what were you chasing after when you went running to the yard, right before the lightning hit?"

"You didn't see it?" I asked, looking around. Everyone shook their head, no. I said to Teresa: "You remember what you told me about when you were on the operating table, about the meadow and the bridge?" Teresa nodded, and I said "The girl I told you about, that led me out of the house and to Westbrook in time to save Mary Gabriel... she was crossing that bridge. I was seeing it as clearly as I'm seeing you now." Teresa nodded.

"And to that end," I said, "I believe that the bones you've found are those of Nellie Blye Westbrook, who was slain in 1882 in a similar ritual to what they tried to duplicate tonight..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

7:00am, Sunday, October 6th. I was in my office, wolfing down the breakfast that had been brought to me from the 24-Hour Diner, and washing it down with Jerome Davis's Navy coffee. I'd just gotten a few hours of sleep, and did my three S's, then given my statement for the second time. It matched the first statement from the night before.

"I don't remember a thing." said Cindy. "I was in your SUV, we'd just gone past the gate checkpoint... and I woke up in the E.R., being examined by doctors."

"That's what doctors do." I said whimsically. "What I don't understand is why I wasn't affected. I remember being TASERed, seeing them throw you out of the car... then waking up with a noose around my neck."

Cindy said "I'm going to remember that whenever I don't want to do sit-ups. Do you realize how hard it is to do what you did?"

"I'm glad I didn't think about it when I was doing it." I said. "It's like the story of the five math problems."

"What story is that?" Cindy asked.

I said "There was a college student who arrived late for a test. There were three problems on the chalkboard in front, and two problems on the chalkboard on the side wall. He solved the first three problems easily enough, but couldn't get the two on the side board. When time ran out, he handed in what he had, then asked if he could have more time for the other two, and the professor agreed."

I continued: "He was working on the problems in his room that night, and he solved one but just couldn't solve the other one. There was a knock on his door, and it was his professor, who said 'You came in late, and I didn't realize it when you asked for more time. After I put up the three problems, I told the class that there were problems that were impossible to solve, and I put two examples on the side board. They weren't part of the test."

I finished: "The student then showed the professor that he'd solved one of them. And he later told people 'Do you think I ever could've solved that if I had known it was supposedly impossible to solve?'."

Cindy smiled. "My father would love that example of positive thinking. And I'm glad you felt the same way about it." I shook my head vigorously in disagreement.

"No." I said. "I was acting in sheer terror; I knew I had to stop Westbrook from killing that girl. That was my motivation..."

"And for your own life, of course." she said.

"I never thought of that." I said. "In truth, it didn't matter. If I'd died, I'd have failed in my duty. If I lived and had not stopped Westbrook, I would've failed in my duty. Saving that girl was all that mattered..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

11:00am, Sunday, October 6th. We assembled in Classroom 'E'. I'd texted ADA Savannah Fineman and she was present... as was DA Miriam Walters. Jack Muscone and Melina Allgood were the representatives of the FBI.

"Well, it's a mixed bag." said Lt. Jerome Davis. "Some of the people we arrested were survivors of the chemical attack the other night. The ones that talked about it were in general agreement in their stories. What happened is that Guru Stevens was leading a Release of the demon ceremony, but there was no sacrifice involved. All they remember is that he had been burning incense on a pentagram at the Ritual Tree, when smoke began filling the woods, and they didn't remember anything else until they woke up in the Hospital."

Jerome: "Two people would not talk to us: Lawrence Evans, and Gary King. Evans was almost rabid last night, and out of his senses, but seemed to have calmed down when he woke up this morning. But he immediately asked for a lawyer. Gary King lawyered up as soon as he was brought in last night."

"Did they get representation?" I asked.

"Yes sir." said Jerome. "Chip Blake, of Gresham & Mason, came in. He tried to say he was representing all of them, but I told him only two people had asked for lawyers, and until the others asked, we did not consider him their representation. Even so, he talked with Lawrence and Gary, and they immediately invoked when we came back in the room."

"You're on shaky ground, having done that." said Miriam Walters. "If Blake said he wanted to represent all of them, then you're obligated to accept that."

"We'll see about that." growled Sheriff Griswold. "And it doesn't matter; the others made their statements after being Mirandized and waiving their right to silence in giving their statements."

"That might fly with Judge Watts." persisted Miriam Walters. "But Judge Nance will throw out all the charges and release every one of them if it's assigned to him... and it likely will be. It was a mistake---"

"Ms. Walters!" I said loudly. "We'll burn that bridge when we come to it! Right now, I just want to know what happened out there." Walters glared at me, but stopped talking.

"So, Lt. Davis," I said, "did any of the survivors say who else was out there? There were seven participants unaccounted for on the night Stevens was killed. Were any of them the ones that were there last night?"

"We asked them about that, and asked the ones we arrested last night if they'd been there the previous time." said Jerome. "We got a lot of 'I don't know' and 'I don't remember' out of them. We might have to offer some of them deals to get them to say more, but I think most of them really don't know, especially about the night Guru Stevens and the others were killed."

"Okay." I said. "Keep working on them. Show each one pictures of the others, see if their eyes flicker or light up. Those that we know were at the Guru Stevens event, let them know they can be charged with murder, see if that puts the fear of God into them."

I then looked around the room. "Tell me about the toxicology." I said.

Tanya Perlman took that up: "Sir, your blood test came up clean. Not even any painkillers for your back. Mary Gabriel had been injected with a tranquilizer, but it was mild and she has no physical aftereffects. Martha said the Dr. Westbrook had no drugs in his system, and that he died of a pretty standard heart attack."

Tanya: "About half of the arrested students last night had traces of typical drugs in their systems: cocaine, codeine compounds, probably oxycontin there, marijuana. But no hallucinogens like the first night. And no residual chemicals found that suggests a gas attack or anything like that."

"What caused that foul stench that so many of them described?" asked Chief Moynahan.